Onen iEstel Edain
by MusicSavesMe711
Summary: A young, neglected, teenager finds herself in her favorite movie/book, and falling in love with a character.. but will she be able to return to her old life if her being there affects the story? And what happens when she meets someone there from Earth? OC
1. First Impressions

I opened my eyes to a harsh light, like the flames of a hearth. But it couldn't be flames, could it? No, our family's fireplace hadn't worked for as long as I could remember. At least, I don't think so. It's not like we'd ever used it. I was aware suddenly that I was leaning against a wall in a corner. A familiar corner, for some reason. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and surveyed my surroundings. I was sitting in a place that gave me a strange sense of déjà vu, though I was sure I had never been there myself before. It was a sort of tavern, for the most part dimly lit. I was in a corner near the fire, but only by the edge of its' glow. Only my eyes would really be seen, because I was wearing different clothes than I last remembered.

I was wearing clothes that consisted of greens and browns. I was wearing a brown leather shirt in the layer closest to my body, which protected me from a shirt of silver-white rings that looked like a mithril mail shirt from The Lord of the Rings. Over that, I was wearing another brown shirt, though this wasn't leather, and it only reached my elbows, while the mithril extended a bit a ways past my wrist. Then, over that, I was wearing a brown leather shirt that also only reached my elbows, and was tied together in the front. I was wearing plain brown leather breeches on the bottom, tucked into leather boots that were buckled just below my knees. My hands were protected by more brown leather- gloves that extended just more than halfway to my elbow, but without the fingers. Ideal for anyone who spends a lot of time working with their hands, but outdoors. Then, on top of all this, I was wearing a forest-green cloak fastened with a brooch that looked like leaves. Its' hood was raised, and that was the reason only my eyes were visible. The rest of my face was in shadow. There was a sword in my belt and a set of daggers in my shoe-sheaths. It's a good thing I used to take fencing lessons and remembered the basics of fighting, or I'd be lost. Although, I didn't see the point, because society is usually civil…

Just as I thought that, a brawl broke out at the bar. Well, that completely contradicted my statement. Wait a second; I've seen that man before! If he can be called a man… a hobbit was more like it! It was Frodo, along with Sam and Merry! Wait, where was Pippin? Oh, there he was, at the bar ordering that one fateful pint that nearly jeopardized the quest. Wait, WHAT?! How in the world did I get here? I couldn't REALLY be in Middle Earth… could I?

Suddenly, I felt a pair of eyes turn towards me. I discreetly looked back in their direction, and saw the one person I had been wondering about since I'd noticed I was in Middle Earth. (Hey, I might as well play along, right?) Aragorn stared right back at me, his stern gray eyes calculating. Obviously, he was wondering why in Middle Earth a woman was in a tavern, and why they were dressed like a ranger. He would definitely be able to tell I was a girl, because my dark auburn hair was bound in a leather thong to the side, and fell over my left shoulder. Gray eyes met green, and there was a moment where we maintained contact, then we both turned back to face the hobbits. Pippin was now talking loudly, and I knew that Frodo was going to put on the Ring soon.

Even if it was an accident, I couldn't stand to be there. I headed in the direction I remembered Aragorn hauling Frodo off in, and hid in the shadows in the room they'd soon enter. I was definitely enjoying this newfound talent for skulking in the shadows. Why couldn't I have learned to do this at home when Mom and Dad fought? Now Mom was dead and Dad was an addict. My friends all turned on me because their parents didn't want them close to someone who was so exposed to drugs. All of this made everyone at school stare at me. I hated when they did that. I had nothing to live for there. I'd much rather stay here for all eternity. Then Aragorn came in, dragging Frodo.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, _Mr. Baggins_," he hissed. It was then that I decided to step out of the shadows.

"As do you, _mellon-nin,_" I mimicked, though in a much friendlier tone. He spun to face me and drew his sword.

"Who are you? I've laid eyes on you before. What business does an elf-woman have in a tavern in Bree?" he questioned, more than a little wary.

"I am known as Nimestel in these lands," I answered, "And as for my business, that is my own. But I know why it is that both of you are here, and also for the hobbits that are about to burst through that door."

Right on cue, Sam, Pippin, and Merry, forced their way in.

"You have stout hearts, my friends. But that will not save you," Aragorn spoke. Then, as I expected, he turned to me. "How do you know our business?"

"Well, you see… I can sort of see parts of what hasn't happened yet. I know a bit of what has already happened so far. I can tell that one of you," I gave Frodo a look, "carries a great peril with him, and that it will not be found yet tonight, if you do not go to your beds. That is all I can say openly."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed, distrustful and bewildered.

"Only a few of the remaining elves posses the gift of foresight," he stated, "Who are you descended from?" I didn't know what to say at first, but a family tree pushed its' way into my thoughts. Instinctively, I knew it would be mine, had I been born into Middle Earth.

"Well you already know I am Nimestel. I am the daughter of Thranduíl." That seemed to be quite a bomb to drop. Aragorn looked absolutely shell-shocked. "Well, if you're wondering why Legolas never told you, that's because he never knew. I am his younger sister by about a hundred and twenty seven years at the least, and was born to his mother while he and his father were both on duty. My mother's pregnancy was kept a secret; next to no one knows who I really am. I think Mithrandir does though…" I rambled. "Anyway, I'm not the important being in this room…" I turned to Frodo.

"Is it secret? Is it safe?"


	2. A Cry in the Night

Later that night, Aragorn and I were the only two awake. The hobbits had stayed in his room, as planned, and we were waiting for the Nazgúl together. Both of us knew in our hearts they would come. Silent was our vigil, until Aragorn broke it.

"Who are you? Really?" he asked abruptly.

"I-I am Nimestel, daughter of-"

"It is not of lineage that I speak, Nimestel, daughter of Thranduíl. You seem different among the hobbits and under the cover of darkness. I believe that it is your mood that dominates then, while your quiet tongue and quick thinking act in front of others." I remained silent for a long time. It was uncanny how he could read people like that.

"And what about you, _Estel?_" I spoke, and his head whipped around to face me. "Are you who you pretend to be? Or are you someone you haven't discovered yet?"

"How do you know my elven name?" he snapped. I smiled mysteriously.

"I told you I know bits of what has happened so far. As for how I actually know your name, I have been on the trail before, and Legolas does not have as keen eyes as he likes to think." My smile turned mischievous. "Also, it is fun to annoy one's older brother, whether or not they know they are your older brother. As it is, they will eventually find out." I loved how I could sound so smart and mysterious in this world. He had no idea how I really knew all of this. Living in a book you've already read is so exciting! Knowing what is to come…

Then, my smile vanished, as I remembered what I would see on Weathertop.

"What troubles you?" Aragorn wondered. I sighed and turned away from him.

"There is peril in the future. Peril that cannot be helped. If your path turns one way, there will be a number of difficulties. If it turns the other… it is still dark. I will not thwart you with knowledge. Oft a man will falter if he knows what lies ahead on the path. But if the path must be tread, then they must go on anyway."

Aragorn stayed quiet and went back to staring out the window.

"I am not the only one who is troubled," I began. He turned towards me again and gave me a look that clearly said, 'I am not talking about my problems with one I don't trust.' He then turned back to the window, and I shook my head at his back sadly. "I will not make you talk about it. I do not think there is a need. You will make a great king, Elessar." Again, his head whipped towards me.

"You seem to know more of me than I do myself," he scowled. I smiled good-naturedly.

"That seems to happen often when someone knows what is yet to come." Aragorn opened his mouth to reply, when an ear-piercing screech cut through the air.

"Stupid Nazgúl…" I muttered. Aragorn seemed surprised that I wasn't afraid, but said nothing, only watched and waited. My keen elven ears could sense the slicing of metal through soft material.

"It's a good thing we kept the hobbits here," Aragorn whispered. There was no chance of them hearing us, and it was doubtful they even knew we were there, but the atmosphere they set made us feel it was essential to keep it that way.

Unexpectedly, when the riders got on their horses to ride away, ones' head (or whatever…) snapped towards us. Its' horse snorted and strained against the reins away from us, but the rider forced it forwards. It seemed to recognize something. It couldn't be the Ring, could it?


	3. Black Breath

"We have to get the hobbits out of here," I breathed. Aragorn nodded, but it seemed neither of us could move our feet. My hand strayed to my sword-hilt. Suddenly, I felt a searing pain in my left knee where I'd cut myself on a piece of twisted shrapnel (I had to get a tetanus shot for that) nearly two years before. Or, in the reckoning of when it happened in this world, centuries ago, when I was barely three hundred years old. I yelped and fell to the ground. That seemed to snap Aragorn out of it, and he leaped into action immediately. He took a torch off the wall and threw it out the open window. It spooked the horse so that it galloped away and caught up with the others. They didn't turn back again.

"Nimestel! Are you okay?" he asked. "What happened?" Another course of pain shot through me, and I whimpered, my hand straying towards my knee. Aragorn gently ran a hand across it, trying to assess the damage. I hissed in a breath. It was tender to the touch. "What happened?" he asked again, more firmly.

"It-it looked at me, and then it just started hurting… I don't know why…" I managed between deep breaths. It was then he noticed the scar from the old injury.

"Where was that scar from?" he seemed worried.

"I tripped and fell on a piece of twisted metal a very long time ago. It made me pretty sick, but the healer managed to save my leg…" Another wave of pain made me want to cry out, so I took a dagger out of my shoe and held it between my teeth to bite down on.

"Do you know anything about where the metal was from?" he pressed. I shook my head.

"I think it might've had writing on it, but it was too destroyed to tell," I mumbled around the dagger. Then Frodo shot up, which woke up the others. They worried at seeing us both sitting on the floor. At least Merry and Pippin seemed to have taken a liking to us. Frodo seemed to want to trust us both, but to be afraid. Sam didn't want us anywhere near his master, and I didn't blame him. Anyone that can keep their head when facing a Nazgúl is dangerous.

"What's happened?" Pippin asked Aragorn. I'd have to remember to call him Strider out loud around them- at least, for a little while.

"I think it's the Black Breath," he finally determined after a long silence. I gasped so loudly my dagger fell out of my mouth and landed stuck in the floor between two of my fingers.

"Impossible," I marveled. But before I could wonder any more, another wave of pain forced another cry out of my mouth. Aragorn held the knife out to me, but I denied it. I wouldn't show any more weakness.

"Um… what's that?" Merry ventured. Aragorn turned to him, and his expression was grave, his features shadowed.

"The Black Breath is an ailment that affects those who have been wounded by a Morgul-blade or who have had close contact with one of the Nine. I think she must've cut her leg on a piece of metal that used to be one of their old swords or weaponry… We should make haste to Rivendell at first light. I can't be worrying about all of you now…"

"So basically, she's sick? Isn't there someone here who can heal her? I could call for Nob…" Frodo replied.

"No!" Aragorn snapped as he turned to face him again, his eyes flashing. "We need not bother Nob with this. There is nothing he can do," he continued, more calmly. "He can't know that I can heal her anyway- to a certain extent. But she isn't just sick- this could kill. The Black Breath is dangerous." At that, even Sam looked concerned. I sighed at their pitying looks and staggered to my feet. I almost fell, but Aragorn was right next to me, and kept me upright.

"Are you sure you should be standing, Milady? You could hurt yourself worse," Merry asked respectfully. I smiled sadly and shook my head.

"If there's one lesson being in the wild has taught me, it's that sometimes there's more important circumstances on your path then pain. I fear neither death nor pain. Only a cage," I stated, steadying myself and putting my dagger back in it's' sheath. They all looked at me with an expression of amazement, even Aragorn. I turned to him. "You should get some sleep. I'll take watch for awhile."

"But-" Aragorn began to protest.

"I'll be fine. We can find some _Athelas_ on the road tomorrow. I've faced worse. Actually, I don't know if I have, but it seems like it, so I'm going to go with my gut. I at least know that I can make it until morning," I smiled. "Sleep. I need not. Besides, you look terrible." Aragorn frowned, but sat in a rocker in the corner to sleep.


	4. A Boy in Imraldis

While the others slept, I pondered what was to come. What could I do with what was to come? And how did I end up quoting Eowyn AND Legolas when I was seriously speaking my own mind? There was a movement behind me, so I whisked around. That's how I noticed Frodo was awake.

"You should get some sleep, young one," I spoke quietly, turning back to the window. "It will be a long walk in the morning." I heard footsteps behind me, and knew Frodo was approaching.

"I wish to sleep, but it evades me. I cannot help but ponder what is yet to come. I do not know what it is exactly, but I do not think my journey will end in Rivendell," he replied. "What do you think?" He turned to me. Looking away from the window, I answered him.

"I think that you may have more in store for you than you think. But never lose hope. There is light at the end of even the longest of tunnels." My sad smile was now full of hope, and so was the one returned by Frodo. I wanted to wish it would stay that way, but I knew that there would be some period of time where it wouldn't be. Instead, I wished that it would come back afterwards.

"How do you know so much?" he wondered. I sighed.

"One day, I will tell you. But I do not know if you will trust me if I do. I can't afford to lose that right now. I want to- I _need_ to help you. You would think I was insane if you knew what had really happened to me." Frodo looked amazed, but he wasn't done talking yet.

"Is there anything you can?" he questioned.

"I can tell you a story. It's about a young mortal boy, who lived in Rivendell. His name was Estel, and he had an older brother named Cuilidan. Their father had died while Estel was two and Cuilidan was five. They were only 3 years apart, and they were extremely close. They did everything together, and with Elladan and Elrohir too, Elrond's sons. They learned to hunt from each other, and became best friends. They got into all sorts of trouble playing pranks on the elves living there. Soon enough, Estel and Cuilidan were old enough to go with Elladan and Elrohir when they hunted orcs to keep the paths over the mountains clear. Just before their first journey, their mother told them the truth about their father. It turns out they were direct descendants of the last king of Arnor, and Cuilidan was the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. Their names, Estel and Cuilidan, which meant 'hope' and 'the life of a man,' finally made more sense than a mother's pride. But there was a problem. On the trip, they rescued a slave-woman, and Cuilidan fell in love with her. Unfortunately, it was a set-up. She betrayed them all, and led Sauron's troops right to them. Cuilidan was killed in the fight. In the meantime, back in Rivendell, their mother had fallen ill. She was running a high fever, and was seemingly delirious.

'Life is gone,' she muttered. 'Only Hope remains." Elrond thought perhaps she was having a bad dream, but some of her line was blessed with foresight. Estel was named well, for now he was the only hope left for men. He only saw his mother once after that," I said, "The last thing she said to him was 'Onen i-Estel Edain, u-chebin estel anim.' I give hope to the Dunedaín, I keep no hope for myself. He couldn't bear the weight of losing her as well, and left. She died days later." It was an awful job at story telling, but I was only ever good at writing things down.

"What happened to Estel?" Frodo asked. I smiled down at him.

"He's still alive now, 71 years later. As for what happened to him, he became a ranger, Chieftain of the Dunedaín. We'll have to wait and see where his path leads next." I smiled mysteriously. "Now get some sleep. You'll find out who Estel is soon enough." Frodo sighed, resigned, and dragged himself to bed, where he quickly fell asleep.

The next day, I was the only one awake. I hadn't become tired that night- in fact; I hadn't become tired at all since becoming an elf. Aragorn's dreams were troubled; he wasn't really supposed to get sleep that night, according to the plot, but I was determined to do what I could. We'd already lose time if he went off to find _Athelas_, and I couldn't have more time wasted on me. At sunrise, I woke them all up; careful to stay out of the way of any weapons Aragorn could pull on me when he woke. When he did, I was right. Just like later on in Rohan, he shot up and pulled out his dagger. Were I less careful, it would've met its' mark. When he noticed it was me, he relaxed a bit and put his dagger away, and helped me wake the hobbits. It turns out, hobbits are extremely stubborn when it comes to sleeping, and persistent when it comes to their meals. They insisted on having breakfast, and, to Aragorn's annoyance, their idea of breakfast was our idea of a feast. So we only grabbed a morsel, and then went to look for horses, since ours were gone. I knew we wouldn't find any other than the one Ferny had, but I just went along with what he decided to do. It didn't take long anyway, but the poor pony really was in a pitiful state. It's a good thing I knew how to help it. He'd be a beautiful steed (though small and a little plain) when I was done with him. All I needed was a decent brush and some oats and apples.

Frodo was definitely the most experienced with travelling and the responsibilities it carried, because he was nearly done getting everyone ready to go when we returned. They didn't delve into it much in the book, but the signs of the sadness that would take him until he went into the West were starting to show, even now. The real quest hadn't even begun, but he seemed resigned to his fate.

It turns out it was even more entertaining watching Sam throw the apple at Ferny than reading about it. I couldn't hold in a silent snicker, and from the back, I'm sure my shoulders shook a little. Aragorn even offered up a smirk in return. It seems since the previous incident, he'd decided he would trust me- at least, enough to be as pleasant as he gets with strangers. That wasn't much, but I got a rare smile. (Smirks count …don't they?)

Okay guys, I know I was supposed to post a long time ago, and you have the right to be pissed off (but only a little... right?) but I got assigned like a zillion Algebra problems over break. Which sucked because I was horrible at Algebra when I took it last year, and I was doing so much better in Geometry... I hate reviews. Plus, my adapter spazzed for my laptop so I couldn't charge it right. The charge flickered on and off, so it would only last like 5 minutes. Then the laptop itself went, but I got a new one for Christmas :) And this one has Windows 7 which, it turns out, makes the other windows look like a kids toy. Anyway, I changed Telepalas' name to Nimestel. I couldn't find the website where I made Telepalas and found out what it means, and it was annoying me, so I made a new name. Nimestel means 'white hope' in Elvish. :) I love Elvish names. Well I have a plan where her name will come into play, but I need to fit it in with the rest of the story. Please reread if you can bear it, I'm pretty sure I changed more than just her name! I don't really know for sure though. I know I revised some of the next chapters, so they won't get any better from me! Unless it turns out I remember that the next few chapters are decently written boring parts. Which would suck. So... read on!


	5. Prope Silva: Through the Wilderness

We walked through the wilderness for days, and it turns out those mysterious and elusive neeker-breekers were mosquitoes. That didn't make them easier to endure, it seems. Surprisingly enough, I recognized this area, and could even guess at where Aragorn was going to head next most of the time.

"So, what exactly IS Athelas?" Sam wondered, always interested in anything he might use to make a good meal. I chuckled silently, knowing his path of thought, but then winced as pain shot through my leg. It'd been getting worse in the past week or so, but we weren't yet in country where Aragorn would be able to find enough Athelas to be of any use, and I could still walk, although sometimes I had to pick up a branch to help support me when my leg gave out.

"Athelas is an herb that can heal even the worst of wounds- if in the right hands. You might know it as Kingsfoil," Aragorn answered.

"Kingsfoil? But that's a weed!" Sam burst out.

"People who think that are the reason it's nearly wiped out. It could've saved many more lives, had it been more accessible," he responded. Sam was quieted by the command in his voice.

We walked a few more miles before my leg gave out again. It was nearly dark and we were in a place that would make a good campsite, so he decided we'd stop there.

"We should press on until sunset," I'd protested at first, "I can grab a branch. I wouldn't slow you down." But Aragorn refused.

"I will not force you to go forward on that leg. We will reach Weathertop tomorrow anyhow. It wouldn't do to get there at midnight, and that's the next campsite we'll see fit for hobbits," he stated. I accepted this to be fact, and didn't persist. Besides, my leg DID hurt.

Aragorn was right on both counts; the hobbits couldn't have stood any campsites we saw, and we reached Weathertop just after noon. He announced that he was going to find Athelas then, and I became anxious, as I knew what would happen soon. I didn't want to let the hobbits light a fire, but the pain in my leg had been keeping me awake recently, and I fell victim to sleep.


	6. Defending the Hobbits

When I awoke, it was just after Frodo. He was about to start stamping out the fire, but I stopped him. He looked at me questioningly, but I explained.

"It's too late now. We need the protection of the fire. Listen," I warned. Right on cue, we heard the screech of Nazgúl. Frodo went pale.

"But Nimestel, what can we do against those who are undead?" he whispered. I smiled deviously and picked up a flaming brand.

"We fight to the end."

With that said, we each grabbed a pair of logs from the fire, and I stamped out the rest. We ran to the top, at the center of the ruins, and I instructed the hobbits to make a ring out of the makeshift torches a few feet away from the circle we had made around Frodo. I cleared the area of fuel the best I could. That was when they came. There were five black shapes coming up the side of Weathertop, all in front of me. They obviously weren't the greatest at strategy, or they would've surrounded us. They drew their swords simultaneously, and I drew mine. Even in near-darkness, it shone with the light of the sun, and it was then that I decided to call it _Glawar_, an elvish word for sunlight. The runes that wrapped around the blade read 'Onen i-Estel Edain, u-chebin estel anim.' How fitting that the words on my blade were the words from a story that had been one of my favorites; a story that spoke of someone I was befriending quickly.

The Nazgúl advanced hastily, and I glared at them, as if daring them to approach. The pain in my leg would now be unbearable if I wasn't so set on the task of protecting the hobbits, especially Frodo. Sure, he falls over dramatically a lot, but the fate of Middle Earth rested on his shoulders. One of them hesitated, but didn't stop. So, they decided their fate. I lunged at the nearest one, catching him off guard, and making him fall into his companions. I hadn't thought it possible for something that seems to float in lieu of walking to fall, but it was lucky it was. I picked up a torch and swung it at the next one to approach; it caught on fire, and fled. Unfortunately, it hadn't set any of the others on fire as I'd hoped it would. The other four composed themselves while I fought that one, and were now coming at me from four different angles. Clearly, they'd underestimated me before. I kicked over one of the torches to set the whole ring aflame, and launched into defensive mode. The hobbits looked terribly distressed, but I had to protect them. I fought at my best, but the pain in my leg grew each second I was this close to them. I was careful to watch their shoulders to give me a warning to their attacks.

But then, the Black Breath won out. My leg collapsed under me, and I could just barely fight them from the kneeling position I was forced into.

"Aragorn!" I called as loudly as I could. We needed him now.

It seemed that Frodo had been overcome by temptation, as I heard Merry, Sam, and Pippin's confused cries behind me. The Witch-King seemed to be seeing him in a new light, and I knew he was, because he suddenly threw a dagger into the flames. Desperate, I did the only thing I could to stop it- I threw myself in its' path. It sunk into my left arm just above the elbow, and I screamed so loud and high, the Nazgúl must've been proud. One of them seemed suddenly to fear me, and covered its' ears until I shut up. It became increasingly hard to parry their blows as my vision darkened, and I was worried more than before. Aragorn might be too late. I'd failed. Things couldn't get worse.

Of course, due to the laws of dramatic irony, it was then that things did.

The Witch-King apparently owned multiple daggers. He threw a second one at Frodo, and I knocked it aside with my sword, though it cost me great effort. Another flew through the air, and I knocked it away again, though I was weakening. A different Nazgúl then attacked me, as another dagger flew, and this time I was powerless to stop it. I heard Frodo yell, just as I saw a light at the foot of the hill. I felt a little more strength in me, and reached up to parry yet another blow coming my way. Alas, I was not the only one feeling a little spiteful about recent actions. The Nazgúl I was fighting grabbed the handle of the dagger in my arm and twisted, dragging another wail from my lips. The hobbits covered their ears, and Frodo reappeared; he, too, was covering his ears, even with his wounded shoulder.

Aragorn appeared then over the side of the knoll, a torch in hand. He swung it at the one guarding the exit, and then chucked it at the Witch-King's face. It stuck there, and as those two Nazgúl ran around, they caught the others on fire, and they all ran from Aragorn's power, unveiled for the first time the hobbits and I had seen.

Frodo had started gasping in order to breathe properly, and Aragorn made his way over to him to check his wound. The fire had burned itself out.

"It was a morgul-blade," he deduced, "I think there may be a bit in the wound. I can't do much for it, but I have Athelas now." As he spoke, I crawled towards them, but I was very weak from the attack. As he spoke, it got harder and harder to make out his words. They got quieter and farther away, even as I got closer. Then darkness took me, and I knew no more.

Unbeknownst to me, the world still moved on.

"Aragorn!" Pippin shouted, as I fell to the ground completely. He turned to Pippin's call and went a little paler than usual when he saw that Frodo wasn't the only one who was wounded. He was kneeling next to Frodo, trying to calm him down, since he'd already applied some Athelas to his shoulder. It had done some help, but not very much. He made his way over to me, only a couple feet away. He rolled me onto my back, and then saw that there was a dagger in my arm. He pulled it out carefully, and wrapped a tourniquet around my arm above the wound, because it was nearly to the bone.

At further examination, he determined the blade to be another morgul-knife, a twin to the one that pierced Frodo.

"This wound is ragged," he decided, "The blade was twisted once it was in place. I do not know how much I can do for either of them, but hope, as was a childhood name of mine. I'll do the best I can, and then we'll head off. I don't think Bill is up to supporting even an elf-maiden, but he may suffer to carry Frodo. I'll take Nimestel, and we'll make haste when I'm done. We cannot tarry here any longer."

"Hope? That was your name when you were a kid?" Frodo gasped. Aragorn nodded.

"It was in elvish, though. _Estel._ I lived in Imraldis, so I was renamed in their fashion," Aragorn explained, not knowing that he had just revealed his true identity to the wounded hobbit. But then, Frodo passed out from the wound, and we finally got moving again, without any more incidents that day, though the ones we suffered were plenty.

Sorry these chapters are a bit short; I'm doing my best.


	7. Noro lim, Asfaloth!

The next few weeks were long and full of pain. It's not like I was a stranger to pain- like I said, my father was an addict. But this pain was a different kind of pain- this pain tore through the flesh, and nagged at your very soul. I was delirious most of the time, but when I wasn't I had nothing to say, for I couldn't see a thing. It was growing dark, and quickly. I didn't like the dark much, because I was an elf, and I tried to resist it, but I had two different wounds, and the poison spread more quickly with two ways of entry.

Then, after thirteen days, I awoke. There was still the practically unbearable pain, but I was no longer delirious. It seemed it was a good thing I was an elf, because if I were human, I don't know how long I would've lasted. My vision still wasn't good for much, and I was terribly cold; but I could think again, and my vision was beginning to improve.

The wound above my elbow hadn't yet healed; it was horrible to behold. But I had to do this if I wanted to be sure I wouldn't become a wraith. I held a dagger from my boot in my mouth to keep me quiet, and then searched the edges of the wound. I couldn't feel some of it, because it was so cold it was beginning to numb. But I persisted, and at last, was rewarded. There was one little sliver of the knife stuck in the side of the wound. It turned out it was a good thing that malicious wraith had twisted the dagger; the piece couldn't make its' way inwards, for it was stuck against the bone. I wrapped it in some of the cloth we had been using for bandages, and put it in the only pocket in my sack. It held whatever money I would have with me (which was all of it), and sometimes, a ring passed down to me by my mother. Usually, I bore it around my neck on a chain, much like Frodo would soon do, but my ring symbolized life; his, death.

The darker it got the easier it was to see; that worried me. It was about six; I wasn't completely healed, and I needed to get Frodo to Elrond. His wound was healing, and I couldn't find the piece of the dagger that was inside. There was a far off screech, and I knew they were planning to come tonight.

"Frodo needs to get out of here," I said. They all turned to me in shock (Aragorn had been supporting me). "They're coming tonight." All of them looked worried, but only Aragorn seemed to notice the full extent of the problem.

"We cannot get him out now," he replied, "Bill is the only mode of transportation we have."

"Put Frodo on Bill. I'll grab a branch. It'll be almost like old times again," I stated. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any branches. This was a healthy part of the forest, apparently.

"Bill won't be able to outrun those horses," Sam argued, "It's suicide to send him out there!"

"There won't be a need for Bill," a voice said behind us. I whipped around and drew my sword, but quickly relaxed. It was Glorfindel. He was riding his beautiful white horse. "This is Asfaloth, and he will bear Frodo forwards if the peril is indeed so great. But if Frodo is unconscious, then I will have to bear him there." I shook my head.

"Let me! I have ridden often, and I fear I cannot walk myself any longer. They are coming, and I don't know how long I could last under darkness," I responded. Glorfindel seemed just to notice me then.

"Nimestel! It is long since I have seen you. What do you speak of?" Glorfindel wondered, "What peril is there other than that which Frodo bears?" I pulled back my sleeve, and Glorfindel seemed troubled. "Alas, two injuries in one company, and both deadly. Yes, you shall ride with Frodo. You may need to leave swiftly, for there are five behind me, and I fear the ford may already be held against us." I nodded.

"Yes, I can tell. They are close. The air is chill. That may just be my wound, but I am sure that they are pursuing quickly now."

"Ride! Ride Nimestel! You are not mistaken! They come now!" Glorfindel called as they rode into his line of vision. I leapt up onto the horse behind Frodo, and urged him forward. I remembered Asfaloth, as I had learned to ride on his sire. He moved so fast he was like a light dancing through the forest. The wind that was created blew my hood back, and my hair fell out of its' hold, flying wildly behind me. I ignored the urge to slow down, and kept in mind the images Sam would see in Galadriel's' mirror. The Shire would burn, and so would everything else, if I failed to throw off these pursuers. I emerged from the trees, and hooves erupted behind me; Asfaloth tossed his head and whinnied angrily at the servitude of these horses, but I pushed him on. I had no strength left for a battle against them. Asfaloth galloped on towards the ford, and that's when the four that were missing came. I drew a dagger, and threw it at the one in the center left in front of me. It stopped to dodge it, and I just got through the gap in time.

"Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim!" I yelled. Asfaloth seemed to put on a last burst of speed, and I just managed to get across the ford. The Nine laughed and jeered.

"Our Master sends his greatest servants, the Nine Nazgúl, the mighty, and in return they send _you?_ An elven maiden who can't even defend against five of us. You have failed. We will take the Halfing and the Ring, and the world will fall to Sauron's dominion! All will serve him!" The Witch-King mocked.

"Over my dead body!" I countered.

"That can be arranged." He led his horse in to the river, and I drew my sword.

"It is your plan that will fail this time," I said with an air of finality. As if on cue, the cavalry in the waves came from upriver, and washed him away. Then, Aragorn, Glorfindel, and the hobbits came from behind the others with flames, and drove them into the river as well. I sheathed my sword and dismounted, ready to meet up with the others again, but suddenly darkness took me again, and I remembered no more.


	8. Awakening: What to do next

That's all I can post today. I hope it was good enough. I need to write some more, I'm getting dangerously close to having no story left, other than what I've posted of course. Happy reading!

I awoke in Rivendell, and learned that Mithrandir was there as well. Frodo hadn't woken up yet, and I let them know that I thought that there was a piece of the knife still in the wound, and showed them the piece that was in mine. They soon found the one Frodo bore, and melted both of them, along with the hilts that Aragorn kept.

There was to be a Council, the Council of Elrond, occurring in the next week or so. Representatives were coming from all free parts of the world, to decide what would become of the Ring (though they didn't know about it yet), and what would happen if they had to do battle with the dark forces. There were elves, men, even dwarves appeared to see the fate of Middle Earth. I noticed Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir, immediately. Then, suddenly, I felt a bit panicked. What would happen when they chose who to take on the quest? What if I couldn't go along? What would I do then? Could I stand it?

We entered the council in one mass, and then I noticed someone else I knew- my friend from Earth was here! It was Jenna! Immediately, I knew it wasn't Jenna here, but Laurëmir. We smiled and nodded at each other, and ended up getting seats next to each other. Legolas was on her left, and Aragorn was on my right.

Then Elrond began, and told the story of the Rings of Power, which I had thought I knew, but was really so much more than I perceived. It seemed no one had known the full tale, for even Aragorn and Mithrandir listened attentively.

Then Boromir told of his dream, which his brother had also shared, and Bilbo and Frodo told of their journeys. Aragorn was revealed to be the heir to the throne of Gondor, though Frodo had figured that out already somehow. The Ring was shown to everyone present, and it seemed to present a disquiet and discomfort over the council, so it was quickly put away again.

Then Gandalf told them his tale, of his tests to find out what exactly the Ring was, and of Saruman's deeds. Legolas also told of how Gollum had escaped, and the pieces finally fit. It was time to decide what would become of the Ring.

There was a long debate, and Boromir especially was against destroying the Ring. He was most unwise; it would be folly to declare oneself mightier than Sauron, and that is what one would have to be in order to control the Ring. Aragorn told him so, and most everyone agreed.

Finally, it was decided that the Ring would go to Mordor to be destroyed.

"I will take the Ring," Frodo announced bravely, "though I do not know the way." I smiled warmly at him. I knew what it must have cost him to say that.

So it was decided that Frodo would go, and Sam with him. The rest of the council surely wondered who else, and I wondered as well whether or not I would be permitted to go.

"I think that may be all that will be decided today. But only one other aspect of this quest would I have decided before we are dismissed. How many shall go?" Elrond stated. Here I cut in.

"I believe that there should be eleven. Nine walkers versus nine riders, one to account for Gollum, who will surely pursue the company, and another, as they say in some places I have been, for extra luck and good fortune, as will be needed on such a journey." Elrond looked thoughtful at this, and I hoped he'd agree. It might alter the course of the story a bit, but how much, really? I HAD to go with them!

Slowly, Elrond nodded.

"I think," he deduced, "that eleven is a good number. Nine is too few, and any more would be too much. Yes, eleven will go forth."

So ended the Council of Elrond, and two months passed before anything else was decided. It was December before the scouts returned from distant corners of the world. Then it was that the members of the Fellowship were to be decided. The Council had gathered again to decide this.


	9. The Fellowship of the Ring

So ended the Council of Elrond, and two months passed before anything else was decided. It was December before the scouts returned from distant corners of the world. Then it was that the members of the Fellowship were to be decided. The Council had gathered again to decide this.

"With Frodo and Sam, we will need nine more. We will need representatives from elves, men, and dwarves, representatives of the free peoples of the world. Who shall go?" Elrond opened the meeting.

Gandalf was the first to be confirmed as a member. Legolas stepped forward, and Gimli as well. Aragorn and Boromir were to come with them, to the delight of Frodo. Then Merry and Pippin ran forward, and declared their intention to go with the Fellowship or be sent home in sacks. Elrond looked thoughtful as to who the last two members of the fellowship would be. Everyone looked surprised when I stepped forward and said that I would like to go, and even more shocked when Aragorn agreed that I would be a good addition.

"Yes, she arrived here injured and not far from death, but that was from fighting five of the Nine single-handed. She seems to be excellent with strategy, from her method of protecting the hobbits, and she was able enough to ride far enough to reach this haven at a gallop after being exposed to the Black Breath for more than a fortnight. The Fellowship would be lucky to have such a great fighter and strategist with them." Elrond seemed unsure.

"Who are you, anyway?" Boromir asked, quite rudely. My eyes flashed as I responded.

"I am Nimestel, daughter of Thranduíl, though only Mithrandir, Aragorn, the hobbits, Glorfindel, and Elrond know it."

"I don't have a sister!" Legolas declared. I sighed.

"Where were you and your father when you were a hundred and twenty seven years old?" I replied coolly.

"I think that was when we were abroad on a scouting mission, when evil was afoot." I raised my eyebrow at him, and he seemed to understand. "I have a sister, and I didn't even figure it out myself?" I nodded.

"Though you're extremely talented, you _can_ be outsmarted. Your mother- _our_ mother- knew you and our father well. You'd have been upset had you found out at the time that she had a daughter, rather than a son. She didn't want to put up with any immature whining," I smirked. Laurëmir chuckled, and it was then that Elrond turned to her.

"I think both of you might make an excellent addition to the company," he decided. She smiled and walked over to us.

"Yes, _Ada,_ I think we would," she responded happily, leaning her elbow on my shoulder. Ada? So she was Elrond's daughter? That was shocking, though I was careful not to show it. We all stood together, and Elrond looked us over, as if determining whether or not it was a good idea to send us. He seemed to decide that either we fit his idea of the Fellowship, or we were the best he could do, and he nodded.

"Yes," he declared, "You will be the Fellowship of the Ring!" Laurëmir and I exchanged smiles. We were really going on the quest with the Fellowship!

Of course, I knew it wouldn't be all fun and games, but I didn't know if I could stand being left behind like a piece of baggage, as Merry would say.


	10. Uneventful Stays

Over the next week, I got to know the other members of the Fellowship. I found I didn't like Boromir much; I don't think Aragorn did either. He had been doubtful of his lineage at first and spiteful later, though he tried to hide it. I practiced sparring with Aragorn, talked with Gimli, and planned with Gandalf. I talked also with Laurëmir, and found that I wasn't the only one who'd been thrust onto this Earth. She'd been thrust into a river-town, and travelled to Rivendell, because she'd soon realized from the talk that she was in The Lord of the Rings, and she wanted to join the fellowship; plus, her family tree had revealed her as Elrond's daughter. Arwen didn't exist in this version of the story.

I have to admit, I was delighted to hear that.

Then, I realized that this meant she was probably supposed to replace Arwen and fall in love with Aragorn.

Less than joyful.

Anyway, among getting to know the rest, I spent some time with Legolas, practicing with a bow and arrow. I was rusty, as it'd been awhile since I'd used a bow, but I quickly got back on track, and back to hitting the center of the target each time. I couldn't compare to Legolas, though. He took less time to aim than I. I preferred to use a sword in battle, and to hunt with a bow, so I had to be more precise than quick. It turns out that, unlike in the movies, Legolas _does_ have a personality. He's actually pretty funny, and, to my excitement, he loved playing pranks on all the important elves in Mirkwood and Rivendell, nearly always with Aragorn, Elladan, or Elrohir.

"If we ever return after the quest, I'm coming with you, and we're going to have so much fun irritating the other elves, we'll split our sides with laughter," I pledged. Legolas agreed. Soon, Laurëmir and Aragorn joined us, as they needed to sharpen their bow skills as well. I was still good friends with Laurëmir, so I helped her, since she was still learning, while Legolas teased Aragorn at being rusty with a bow. Aragorn threatened Legolas practically the entire time, and still hit the center of the target a lot. I was impressed. I never could've done that when I was a human.

Then again, when I was human, I wasn't the Chieftain of the Dunedaín, or the heir to the throne of Gondor.

Yeah, I know, I know. Another short chapter. But I hardly write anything for this story anymore. I have terrible writers block. I know some things that I want to happen, but whenever I try to write them, it comes out sounding fake to me. Sorry, but I'm not posting something that doesn't sound right.


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